


if you'll let me

by Noa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub, Hero Worship, M/M, Obedience, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noa/pseuds/Noa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave waits outside the open door of Dirk’s workshop until he tells him that he can come in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lacertae linked me to a kinkmeme prompt and it was dirk/dave and d/s so I couldn't NOT write it.

**1.**

“Dave?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Do you really need all that crap?”

Dave scowls at John’s accusing stare. He hugs the crate he is carrying closer to his chest. The shrill sounds of metal touching metal creates a soft beat as he walks.

“This isn’t for me.”  
“Then why did you bother? What’s it for?”  
“Dirk asked me to pick it up for him.”

Dave waits outside the open door of Dirk’s workshop until he tells him that he can come in. The cramped space puts pressure on his senses; the room smells of oil and dust. One, painfully bright lamp casts deep shadows along the walls and ceiling. Dirk sits in a pile of scrap metal, scattered across the far right corner. His eyes are fixed on his most recent project. Dave's eyes are fixed on the smears of tar on his arms. Dirk doesn’t spare him a glance, and Dave pushes his shoulders back to try and appear more present.

“Just drop it there.” He motions at an un-cluttered part of the floor with a nod of his head. Still no eye-contact. Dave swallows.

He takes care to make as little noise as he can while setting down the crate. Dirk's perfectly articulated 'thanks' makes him forget the ache in his shoulders. It's not until he asks Dave whether there’s anything he needs- that Dave realizes he's just been standing there. He excuses himself with a muttered goodbye, swaying on his feet until he tears his eyes away from Dirk. As he absconds, he feels an amused glance follow him out.

**2.**

"I must admit that you have shown great improvement with your composing." Rose is holding one side of Dave's bright red headphones to her ear. Her eyes watch the sound waves on the screen as if she can read their language.

"Told you, I'm pretty damn sure I outdid myself on this one. Here, I've been messing around with the pitch in this transition-"

"Dave?"

Both Dave and Rose look up to find Dirk, holding himself in the doorframe as if he’s some kind of royalty. Dave let’s his side of the headphones go without a moment's hesitation. The music keeps playing, but Dave’s attention was elsewhere. Rose narrows her eyes at him.

"Sup bro."  
"I need you to help me out for a moment."

Rose's lips part when Dave gets up without protest, not expressing even a touch of doubt. It's Dirk who tells her he won't be long, and Dave feels oddly content at being spoken for.

Dirk is so cool it makes Dave shiver. Cool in a way Dave could only ever aspire to be. He deserves more credit than he gets, and he wants to be the one to give it to him. The others just don't understand him- Dave does.

Alone in bed that evening, Dave listens for the sounds of Dirk’s tinkering. The workshop is two doors down the hall, and something so close had never felt so far before. He tries to hear Dirk’s voice amongst the metal. He replays the praise he’d been given in his head, until his stomach feels funny. Thoughts of his calloused fingertips and strong orange eyes, keep him up all night.

**3.**

Dave stares at Dirk's chumhandle, but he can't bring himself to start a conversation. The last thing he wants to do is to disturb him. Forty-one minutes and three seconds later, the alert of an incoming message makes Dave's heart jump.

TT: It's late.  
TG: sure is  
TT: Why are you still up?  
TG: im just not tired  
TT: That's bullshit. You almost fell asleep watching movies today.  
TG: dude this is egberts taste youre talking about i always fall asleep whenever he gets to pick  
TG: not that youre one to talk  
TG: do you even have a bed  
TG: do you really though or do you just sleep standing up  
TG: have you turned yourself into a robot so you can keep working while you sleep  
TG: are you plotting to take over the world while us humans all lie snoozing  
TT: Dave.

There is a pause. Dave feels a knot in his stomach tighten.

TG: yeah  
TT: Go to bed.

Another pause.

TG: fine


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "At the sight of a single thumbs up, Dave relaxes, and slight pride dusts his features."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: minor violence

**4.**

Dave startles and halts when he sees Rose in front of Dirk’s workshop. He quickly takes two steps back around the corner to hide his presence.

Rose knocks twice before she lets herself in, and when she closes the door behind her, Dave cautiously moves forward. Standing right outside of Dirk’s workshop, Dave hears their voices through the thin walls.

"By now I believe Dave is the only one oblivious to the fact that you have gotten him on a leash." Her voice has a judging tone to it, and it annoys Dave.  
"Dave does what he wants." Dirk’s reply is sharp.  
"You seem awfully sure of what those 'wants' entail." Dave frowns, ready to burst in and tell Rose that she needs to mind her own business.  
"It's a Strider thing. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Dirk states matter-of-factly, and Dave finds himself put at ease by Dirk’s reluctance to indulge Rose. It _is_ a Strider thing; there's no need for Rose to understand. Dave does, and that’s all that matters.

Dave keeps listening for more conversation, but it stays quiet. Wary that Rose might leave and catch him eavesdropping outside, he enters the workshop. He doesn’t knock first, and it makes him feel strangely out of place. When Dirk looks right at him, his eyes neutral, Dave fights the urge to apologize. Unwilling to show his discomfort, he pulls his best poker face, and evens his voice.

"Hey I got you those pizzas you wanted- oh hi Lalonde."

She looks from the boxes to Dave, and then to Dirk again. What her eyes say is unclear to Dave, but the corners of Dirk’s mouth curl up slightly. Dave is puzzled when she turns on her heel and leaves the room without a word.

"I know she's not that into pizzas but I didn't know they were capable of downright repelling her." Dave remarks, not making eye contact. He’s unsure whether interrupting had been a mistake or not, and he fears disapproval. "Gotta remember that." Dirk doesn’t answer, and it enforces Dave’s concerns. The silence stings, and Dave keeps his eyes to the floor in apology.

Then, Dirk shifts in his chair, before slowly getting up. Dave’s gaze flicks to watch his movement, and he feels his heart beating in his throat as Dirk approaches. When Dirk takes the boxes from his hands, their fingers touch- Dirk’s fingertips don’t feel as rough as Dave had imagined.

**5.**

Jade smells Dirk on Dave's clothes. She turns to greet him and her eyes widen in surprise. Instead of Dave’s red godtier clothes, he’s chosen to wear a black shirt akin to second skin. His soft, baggy godtier pants have been replaced with grey jeans that are tight at the hip, yet loose at the legs. Jade might have had trouble recognizing Dave if it wasn’t for his shades.

"Looking good Dave!" She compliments, and though she doesn’t sound nervous, the way she fiddles with the layers of her skirt shows a certain tension.  
"Thanks Harley. Gotta admit I miss my cape." Though glad to hear her praise, Dave feels somewhat naked. Exposed. To distract himself from the tension, he focuses on the memory of Dirk's smile as he gave him Dave the codes.

Jade smiles, and Dave walks across the room to join her on the couch. A documentary on nuclear matter plays on the large screen in front of them, but now Dave is the object of her attention.  
"Have you been alchemizing?" She's not sure what she expects him to say. He tugs the hem of his shirt down; his pale skin stretched across his collarbones all but glows against the smooth black fabric. She feels her gaze being pulled down.

"Nah," He leans back into the cushions and Jade tries her best not to stare- Dave is dressed to kill and she feels as if shot with a bullet. "My bro made 'em for me."

"You mean Dirk?"

Dave meets her eyes like she's just insulted him greatly, and she realizes she'd have done better not to ask. Her ears droop a little.

Then, Dave notices Dirk entering the room. He watches him greet Jade, and when Dirk looks at Dave, he seems pleased somehow. Dave nods to acknowledge his presence, suddenly feeling nervous as the other looks him up and down. At the sight of a single thumbs up, Dave relaxes, and slight pride dusts his features.

"Cool. Very cool." Dirk says, and there's appreciation in his voice. "Much better than those floppy pajamas." Dave feels a sense of belonging at wearing clothes Dirk had both supplied, and approved of.

Dave scrambles for an equally cool way to thank him for the compliment but Dirk's smile has him forget his words. He never wears his godtier clothes again.

**6.**

"How long have they been at it?" John asks Rose. The both of them watch Karkat and Dave argue in the reading room. It’s not uncommon to see the two knights fight (they are always competing in one way or the other), but this particular quarrel has been going on long enough for John to have forgotten what started it.  
"Far too long." She replies, her eyes fixed on the pair as they exchange cusses and insults.

Then, in the heat of their argument, Karkat growls out the most horrendous of verbal attacks. He yells that Dave is a fake coward of a knight, who never should have bothered making himself useful, because no one wants him around anyway. Everyone will be better off without him, and Bro was an idiot to have died for him.

Dave's hands wrap around his Karkat's throat in seconds; Karkat claws at Dave’s chest to break free.

There is more anger in Dave than Rose has ever seen before, and she takes a small step back from the scene, feeling somewhat intimidated. She notices that John turns his palm up to separate the two with a strong gust of wind, but then Dirk enters room –he must have heard the yelling– and sees what's going on.

Dave is sweating, panting, his eyes seem to be burning through his shades. His fingers dig deeper into Karkat's windpipe; the troll's nails rip through Dave’s shirt and skin. Dave bleeds, but he doesn't let go.

"Hold on to something guys," John warns, ready to force Dave and Karkat apart with air to prevent them from getting seriously hurt, but Dirk interrupts.  
"Wait."

Both John and Rose seem dumbfounded when Dirk calmly approaches the fighting pair, and places a hand on Dave's shoulder. Dave's expression softens, and his grip weakens instantly, until Karkat breaks free with a kick. Even the troll watches with a certain fascination as Dave and Dirk do nothing but look at each other for a couple of moments. Then, without a word, Dave leaves. Dirk turns to Karkat.

"He hates himself about as much as you do Vantas," Dirk starts, his voice a strange mix of cool and intimidation. Karkat frowns and waits for him to finish. "but don't bring Bro into it. You'll get hurt."

Not even Rose is able to determine whether Dirk’s words are a warning, or a threat.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dave can hardly believe that his best friend is unaware of the cool that practically oozes from Dirk’s pores."

**7.**

"What's so cool about him anyway?" John asks, sounding so disinterested that Dave wonders why he even wants to know.

They are playing ghostbusters, sitting next to each other in a row of computers. Dave looks away from the screen to face John, and answers in a neutral tone of voice. "You're joking right."

"I just don't see it." John shrugs, and makes use of Dave’s distraction by performing a stealth-kill. Dave frowns, displeased with John’s sneakiness, as well as his doubt of Dirk.

Dave knows John doesn’t hang out with Dirk much. Their personalities are too different, despite the both of them being very close to Dave. Ever since Dirk joined them on the meteor, he has been keeping mostly to himself. Dave doesn’t mind Dirk’s social isolation; he actually kind of likes it- it makes the time Dirk spends with _him_ feel more special. Regardless, the fact that John doesn’t know Dirk too well does not excuse his ignorance. Dave can hardly believe that his best friend is unaware of the cool that practically oozes from Dirk’s pores.

“After everything I’ve taught you, you’re still not versed in the language of cool. You’re hurting my heart here man.” To emphasize his point, Dave briefly touches his chest, mocking sadness.

John rolls his eyes at Dave, then returns his attention to the monitor in front of him. “Is this where you start ‘schooling’ me?” He jokes. “Should I get a pen?”

Dave ignores the question and tries to come up with ways to explain to John how Dirk was all but perfect- he barely keeps up with the pace of the game in his distraction. He thinks of the magic Dirk makes from metal, his mastery of irony and the soft spikes of his hair. Dave has no idea how he does it, but Dirk always seems to know just what to say. Dave looks up to Dirk so much, that it feels near-intimidating to even be _around_ him; he used to feel the same with Bro. Different from his time with Bro though, is that whenever Dave is with Dirk, instead of wanting to abscond, he feels content to just sit still and listen to Dirk’s breathing. If Dirk would let him, Dave would do nothing else. By now Dave’s mind has drifted so far that he’s not even playing the game anymore, and John effortlessly rakes in another kill.

“Dude.” Dave protests, and John grins.  
“Hey, it’s not myyyyyyyy fault that you’ve got your head in the clouds!”   
“Your _face_ is in the clouds.” He spits back, embarrassed at both his loss, and his daydreaming. He can’t remember ever making such a shitty comeback.

John simply smiles at him when Dave demands a re-match.

 

**8.**

"Is it too bright for you in here?" Dirk asks, and he stops his work for a moment to look at Dave. It was just the two of them, sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor of Dirk’s workshop. Several floodlights illuminate the delicate insides of one of Dirk’s robots, unconsciously waiting for its hardware upgrade to be built in.

Dave seems surprised by the question, and he doesn’t answer, so Dirk continues. "Seeing how it's just us Striders in here you might as well ditch the shades; that way you won’t risk breaking them. The wiring will be easier to do too, colors and all.”

Dave visibly freezes, and blinks behind his frames. Dirk watches him carefully from behind his own shades, and for a moment, he fears he asked too much. Dirk draws a breath to withdraw the question, but then Dave’s slender fingers reach up. Dave keeps his face to the floor as he slides off his glasses.

Dirk’s heart swells with pride, and he extends his hand towards Dave, silently asking him to hand in the shades. Dave, however, clutches them tightly, and eyes Dirk’s hand with something that looks like reluctance. Dirk can see the deep red of his irises, and another rush of warmth runs through his body at the sight. He spreads his fingers a bit, and smiles gently.

“It’s alright bro, you’ll get them back. It’s just me.”

They stay like that for a few seconds; Dirk’s hand reaching for Dave, Dave’s hands trembling slightly.

Dave faces the floor again as he carefully places the folded-up frames in Dirk’s open palm. Dirk almost shudders with excitement; he fights the urge to lunge forward, embrace Dave, and never let go. Instead, he places Dave’s shades out of harm’s way, and looks back at him- he still has his eyes on the ground.

“Awesome.” Dirk says. He feels out of breath. When Dave slowly lifts his gaze to meet his eyes, and smiles, there isn’t a bit of air in Dirk’s lungs left. 

The next time he and Dave are alone in his workshop, Dirk repeats the question. He’s thrilled when Dave complies almost instantly. A week later, Dave hands him his frames on his own, and it’s then that Dirk knows he won’t have to ask anymore.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As usual, the door to Dirk’s workshop is open; and as usual, Dave waits outside."

**9.**

“You look exhausted, Dave,” Rose manages to make her comment sound like criticism, rather than an observation. Dave doesn’t look up from his notepad; unwilling to have his head looked into by her. “Is it the nightmares again?” The soft clicking of her knitting needles distracts Dave from his writing.

“I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Dirk these days,” Rose adds, the sound of Dirk’s name draws Dave’s attention.

“What does  _that_  have to do with anything?” Dave asks, slightly irritated. He just wants to write his raps in peace; why Rose has decided to join him as she works on a scarf that looks more like an incarnate of cthulu, is beyond him.

Rose shrugs, carrying a grace only she can manage. She keeps her eyes on her craft, but Dave can almost feel her prodding at his skull. It stays quiet for a while, and for a moment Dave hopes Rose has let go of the matter, but then she pipes up again.

“Is it because he reminds you of your Bro?” She looks at him from the corner of her eye, and Dave’s shoulders tense up. He really doesn’t want to talk about this, and especially not to her. “There must be similarities,” She continues, and Dave narrows his eyes behind his shades as he tries to focus on his own words, rather than those of his ecto-sister. “Though they are obviously not the same person. Seeing how your Bro has unfortunately-”

“Rose.” Dave puts down his pen and faces her. His eyelids feel heavy; a tell-tale sign he hasn’t been sleeping well. “What do you want from me.”

“Why would you think I want something from you Dave?” She replies, answering her own question with the tone of her voice. “I'm merely concerned. I believe it would be very harmful for your psyche to view Dirk as a substitute for your deceased brother.” She calmly keeps knitting as she glances up at Dave. He blinks at her.

“I’m not, he’s not,” Dave pushes his shades further up his nose, as if they could hide him completely. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It's a perfectly understandable reaction; considering the trauma your loss must have inflicted upon you. After all, you've never once taken the time to properly mourn his death.” She sounds so detached, and Dave wants to interrupt her, but his throat feels constricted. “However, there are healthier ways to go about coping. Perhaps some time away from Dirk will help you come to terms with the reality that the brother you knew is gone.”

Dave represses the urge to abscond; Rose is pushing all his buttons and it makes him want to flip the table they were sitting at. Instead, he breathes in slowly, and tries to keep his voice from shaking with emotion.

“That all sounds very psycho-analytic of you,  _Lalonde_ , but you’re overlooking the small fact that you don’t know  _anything_  about me and Dirk,  _or_  Bro, so  _perhaps_  you should mind your own damn business.” His words come out cool enough, but it’s obvious that he’s upset.

Rose doesn’t seem fazed by his outburst at all. She just raises an eyebrow and studies him with such an intense look, Dave worries she can read his mind. He wants to get out, but leaving now means admitting. The following silence is awkward, and Dave’s eyes stay locked on Rose’s form for a few more moments, before returning his gaze to his half-finished rhymes.

Miraculously, Rose seems satisfied with whatever answer she believes she’s gotten out of Dave. She doesn’t ask any more questions, and eventually returns to her own work as well. 

Dave knows he’s won the battle (seeing how Rose has stepped down for now), but as her words echo through his mind, he fears that he’s lost the war.

 

**10.**

Dave wakes up from his nightmare soaked in sweat. He kicks off the clammy sheets and scrambles for his shades. Once he’s put them back on, he takes a deep breath, and glances around his dark room. This is the third time in a row that he finds himself unable to sleep, and by now he could downright scream in frustration. However, the lack of rest is not what exhausts him most.

The worst thing about his recurring nightmares is that when Dave wakes up, Bro is still dead. Any attempt to calm himself by realizing it was ‘just a dream’, goes wasted on the bitter realization that he is _living_ in his nightmare; whether he is awake or asleep. There isn’t really anywhere for him to run.

Rose is the only one who knows. She’s told him that she has visions of her dead mother at times, too. Dave doesn’t ask for specifics, and never shares any of his own. He can handle himself just fine. Bro would want him to.

Dave sighs, and decides to waste some time behind his computer before giving sleep another shot. The monitor floods his room with chill blue light, and he squints while his eyes adjust. Something is blinking in the bottom right corner of the screen, and Dave clicks it.

TT: Up again?

Dave stares at the orange text for a moment. Pesterchum must have automatically signed him in when he turned on the computer. He could ignore Dirk, and pretend to be asleep, but he’d likely find out. Besides, Dave’s awake now anyway; he might as well chat.

TG: you are a true master of deduction  
TT: Cute. What’s wrong?  
TG: why does something have to be wrong  
TG: have you been talking to rose  
TT: I find her a bit unsettling to be honest.  
TG: no shit  
TG: understatement of the year right there  
TG: you might as well have said that you find a sword through the heart a bit uncomfortable  
TG: or that taking a swim in lava is a bit lethal  
TG: theres a bit of a chance youll scald your fucking skin off  
TT: I’ll keep it in mind.  
TG: good  
TT: Why are you up, Dave?

Dave sighs at the screen. There is only so long he can avoid giving straight answers. Whenever Dirk asks him direct questions, Dave just feels compelled to answer, even if he doesn’t want Dirk to know. Dirk seems to have figured this out, and he wouldn’t be Dirk if he hasn’t been making full use of it since.

TG: couldnt sleep  
TT: Am I being too loud?  
TG: no its not that i just

Sure, sometimes he can hear Dirk working at night, but Dave considers those sounds background music, rather than a disturbance. Dave sighs again as his hands move to type the truth.

TG: nightmares  
TG: about bro

It takes Dirk a bit longer to reply, and Dave instantly regrets showing weakness.

TT: Oh. I’m sorry.  
TG: dont be its fine  
TG: bros the dead one not me

Dave feels a sharp lump form in his throat as he types it. If only it _had_ been him, instead of Bro. His eyes water, but he quickly blinks the tears away. There’s more orange on the screen.

TT: Why don’t you come to the workshop for a bit.

Dave doesn’t reply right away.

TT: Dave?  
TG: no man im fine really

It’s bad enough that Dirk has seen this much through pesterchum; Dave doesn’t want him to see his face; he has washed-out skin from exhaustion and eyes close to crying. Unfortunately for Dave, Dirk doesn’t let up.

TT: Get over here Dave.

Just as Dave was typing a second refusal, another line popped up in the chat window.

TT: Now.

Dave’s hands freeze above the keyboard, and there is a strange, fluttering feeling in his stomach. He deletes the words he had already typed.

TG: on my way

As usual, the door to Dirk’s workshop is open; and as usual, Dave waits outside. He clears his throat, and Dirk looks up from his computer. When he sees Dave, he smiles.

“Hi, come in.”

Dave carefully steps around the unfinished projects scattered all across the floor, while Dirk watches him from his chair. Habit moves Dave’s hands, and he slips off his shades like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He offers them to Dirk, keeping his eyes on the floor. Dirk takes them; his hands feel warm against Dave’s cold skin. Dirk dips his head a little to look up at Dave’s face, but Dave turns his head to the side. Dirk puts Dave’s glasses away, and frowns.

“Dave, look at me.” He sounds gentle, and Dave slowly does as he says. Dirk’s sharp eyes seem to soften when he looks at him, and Dave bites his tongue to keep from crying on the spot. He feels so small, so insignificant. So weak, and part of him is just waiting for Dirk to scold him for being such a useless little shit.

Then, Dirk turns back around to his monitor, facing away. Dave blinks in confusion and looks over Dirk’s shoulder as he shuts down his computer. Next, he gets up, and unplugs some tools and things Dave doesn’t know the function of. Dirk shoves some boxes aside and clears the couch that normally stands hidden under a sea of miscellaneous parts and things; with some maneuvering he presses the arms and back down, forming a small bed. From how long it takes Dirk to locate a blanket, Dave concludes that Dirk hasn’t used the bed often.

“Turn off the light,” Dirk says, as he tosses the blanket on the makeshift bed. He turns to face Dave, and finishes his sentence with a small smile on his lips. “You’re sleeping here tonight.”


	5. 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dave’s arm twitches; he wants to pull his hand back, but he knows Dirk wants him to stay, and somehow, that was so much more important."

**11.**  
  
Dave wakes up to find his arm draped over Dirk’s bare chest, and his head resting on Dirk’s shoulder. Dirk’s arm is wrapped loosely around him, and when Dave looks up, he flashes him a gentle smile. Aside from Dirk’s shirt, they are fully clothed. Dave wonders if Dirk has slept at all last night. Unlike Dave, Dirk was wearing his shades still; though Dave was now close enough to feel the warm glow of Dirk’s eyes on his skin. It makes his stomach feel weird, and Dave averts his eyes while he slowly pulls away from Dirk- but the arm around him doesn’t move.  
  
“Mornin’.” Dirk says softly, almost in a whisper. “Sleep well?”  
  
Dave is worried that his voice will fail him, so he nods a little and prays that it will suffice. Dirk doesn’t look away, and his face is  _so close_ \- Dave’s throat feels dry.  
  
Dirk hums, and Dave can feel the tremor. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this close to someone else; the sheer proximity alone is dizzying. Yet, Dave’s limbs feel heavy, reluctant to move, and whenever he even considers trying it’s like Dirk’s hold on him strengthens a little. The small bed is warm with their presence, and the world outside of the single blanket’s shelter feels dangerous somehow.  
  
Dave surprises himself when he realizes he feels safe.  
  
Awareness of time ticks in the back of Dave’s mind, and it startles him.  
“It’s noon.” Dave’s voice is creaky with sleep.  
“Sure is.” Dirk replies, and he sounds vaguely amused. Dave can feel the vibrations of Dirk’s voice.  
“Shouldn’t we get up or something?” Dave’s sure it’s not a weird question (especially considering how much of a workaholic Dirk usually is), but Dirk holds himself with so much confidence and cool that Dave feels silly asking. Dirk smiles, and Dave’s heart flutters.  
“Nah.” He replies, and his hand gives a gentle squeeze on Dave’s shoulder. “I’m good. ‘Sides, a bit more sleep wouldn’t hurt, you’ve got some catching up to do.”  
“Oh.” As if Dirk had summoned it, Dave yawns, and any will to protest seeps from his lungs. “Ok.”  
  
Dave lets his eyes slide shut, and shifts a little. Dirk pulls him in just a bit more, and Dave feels a hand gently brushing his bangs aside. Dirk’s touch is soft, and his fingers stroke through Dave’s hair in a manner close to caressing. It feels nice, and Dave pretends he is already asleep so that his appreciative sigh can’t be used against him later.  
  
Dave feels Dirk move; for a moment he is scared that Dirk will detangle himself from their somewhat awkward embrace to continue his work and leave Dave alone- but then Dirk’s lips press a chaste kiss to his forehead. Dave feels a fierce blush heat up his face; he hopes Dirk doesn’t feel his heartbeat skyrocketing.  
  
 **12.**  
  
“No seriously why does John always get to pick I call bullshit.” Dave says.  
“Well, Jade doesn’t know any good movies.” John replies.  
  
John, Dave, Rose and Jade have assembled for their usual night of movie-watching. The boys are on one couch, the girls on another. Jade sighs as John and Dave engage in their usual bickering, but her eyes sparkle with a smile. Dave looks at her, in search of support.  
  
“So what about me is my taste too refined for you is that what’s going on.”  
“Nobody gets your silly movies Dave!” Jade says with a giggle.  
“Hey Happy Feet is a political statement.” Dave replies, making his voice sound hurt.  
  
“John, kindly decide on a movie already.” Rose interrupts.  
“Rose please you’re not even going to watch you’re reading a fucking book.” Dave says, shrugging when Rose glares at him in response. She usually spends their movie nights reading, but she makes an effort to join them for social shenanigans, and that was good enough. Sometimes Dave envies Rose for her ability to shut out anything that’s happening around her. When John’s gaze lingers on ‘Robocop 2’, Dave wants to ask Rose if she has a book to spare.  
  
“Yo,” Everyone but Rose looks up to see Dirk walking in. “movie night?”  
“Yeah!” Jade answers. “Want to watch with us?” Dave rolls his eyes.  
“Don’t do it bro run while you can.” Dave warns, though the thought of Dirk staying makes him happy somehow.  
“Alright, this is the one!” John exclaims proudly, and he gets up to put Robocop 2 in the DVD player hooked up to the large screen. Dave sighs in defeat, and looks at Dirk with a hint of desperation in his eyes.  
  
“Sounds like a party.” Dirk says, and he moves to sit next to Dave. When John returns it’s the three of them on the couch, and Dirk and Dave’s legs touch. Dave looks down, and then up at Dirk, who keeps his gaze on the screen as the movie starts playing.  
  
Dave feels on edge the entire 117 minutes of the movie, though this has nothing to do with the excitement John was sure the film would offer.   
  
It starts with gentle, almost accidental nudges. Denim against denim, Dirk seems glued to Dave, and whenever Dave adjusts to re-create the minimal distance, Dirk follows until their ankles touch. When John tells Dave to stop being so fidgety, Dave startles. He pushes his shades further up in hopes of hiding his unease. Dirk watches him do it, and Dave is struck with fear of having to turn his mask in, right here, in front of everyone else, but nothing happens.  
  
Dave is nervous; he stares at the screen as if he’s looking through it, arms crossed in front of his chest. Dirk’s gaze drags across his body like a lit cigarette, and Dave considers bailing. He is just about to move when Dirk’s fingers curl around his own; Dave almost gasps when Dirk gives them a sharp tug. He carefully turns to the side to see Dirk subtly shaking his head- Dave slumps slightly, defeated.  
  
Dave tries to pull his hand away, but Dirk’s grip on him is surprisingly strong. Dave doesn’t give up trying until he feels Dirk scraping a fingernail along the palm of his hand, and the odd sensation makes him shudder. John snaps his head to the side and gives Dave a judging look, as if Dave is kicking John’s chair in the cinema, and Dave mouths ‘sorry’ while he feels Dirk press Dave’s index and middle finger together.  
  
Confusion cools Dave’s skin down, and when Dirk lightly strokes past the closed gap between Dave’s fingers, Dave spreads them again. Dirk responds by harshly pressing Dave’s fingers back together, and Dave catches on.  
  
Dirk toys with Dave, trailing a single finger up and down in between Dave’s closed digits. Sometimes, he pushes forward a little, but not enough to force Dave’s fingers apart. It slowly dawns on Dave just what Dirk is simulating, and his blood heats up at the realization. Dave is sure he hears Dirk chuckle under the loud sounds coming from the movie, but when he looks at Dirk, his face is stoic as ever.  
  
Dave attempts to watch the movie while Dirk keeps teasing, the sensitivity of Dave’s fingers sending the occasional shiver up his spine. Behind his shades, Dave compulsively keeps an eye on the others, praying they can’t see what’s going on to his left. Dirk movements pause, and for a second Dave worries that he’s done something wrong, but then he feels Dirk’s finger again- warmer and wetter than before.  
  
Dave’s arm twitches; he wants to pull his hand back, but he knows Dirk wants him to stay, and somehow, that was so much more important. So he stays, and bites his lip while Dirk draws a slick finger up between Dave’s own.   
  
Then, Dirk pushes forward again, and this time he doesn’t stop. With a slow, building pressure, Dirk forces Dave’s fingers to spread, while making sure Dave’s fingertips were still touching. Dave’s head feels light and his legs feel heavy- he wants to laugh at how fucking  _stupid_  this is, but at the same time it makes him feel so  _hot_  inside, and where does that leave him?  
  
Dirk moves in and out of the small gap between Dave’s fingers with slow, strong strokes, and Dave feels himself losing the will to pull away, instead struggling to keep his eyes open. When Dirk picks up the pace, Dave is no longer worried about why this was turning him on, but how he was going to hide it. He presses his knees together, lists states and their capitals in his mind. Then Dirk pushes in deeper, curls his finger to nudge Dave’s palm- Dave barely holds back a soft keen.  
  
Suddenly Dirk stops; his fingers slide back out and away from Dave.  
  
“Jesus Dave, did you actually fall asleep? Come on, it wasn’t  _that_  bad!”  
  
John’s voice sounds faint and Dave opens his eyes to the credits rolling onscreen. Dave uncrosses his arms and the first person he looks at is Dirk, who is just sitting there with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“No man,” Dave replies, and he covers his mouth with his hand to fake a yawn. “Just,” His fingers are still damp with Dirk’s saliva and now Dave knows for sure he hears Dirk laughing. “Just a bit tired.”   
  
Rose looks up from her book and Dave avoids her eyes, scared she’ll see right through him. John seems to cheer up instantly. “Oh, well, then we’ll just have to watch it again!”  
  
Dirks stops laughing, and Jade squeaks out a ‘No!’.  
  
“How about I pick next time.” Dirk offers, and Jade nods gratefully. John gives in with a disappointed sigh. Dave flexes his strained hand, unable to decide whether he fears next time, or looks forward to it. One look at Dirk tells Dave that he should probably do both.


	6. 6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He hasn’t seen anyone fight like this since Bro, and Dave wonders if Dirk can flash step with a hat on."

**13.**

The air smells of stars and sweat. There are faint sounds of metal clashing. Jade, John and Dave are sitting right by the entrance to the lab, as they watch Dirk and Karkat spar. Dave just finished a round of pretend-strife with John, and is now casually sipping apple juice from a plastic bottle. Before that, Jade fought Karkat, and a few strands of dark hair have slipped from her ponytail.

It’s surprisingly warm on the meteor’s surface, and while Jade seems to have trouble with the heat, Dave has hardly broken a sweat. Every now and then Jade pulls John’s sleeve, and he sighs as he summons up a breeze.

Dave’s eyes are fixed on the way Dirk’s body moves. It’s as if Dirk is dancing, light on his feet while keeping strength in the slashes of his sword. Dave studies the way Dirk’s skin stretches over his bones, how he occasionally uses one hand to brush his hair back (even though it never seems to obstruct his vision).

Dirk doesn’t usually join their sparring rounds- judging by the skill he displays, Dave figures he probably has no need for training. The ease with which Dirk neutralizes Karkat’s aggression is stunning, and his swordsmanship makes Dave feel inadequate. He hasn’t seen anyone fight like this since Bro, and Dave wonders if Dirk can flash step with a hat on.

Karkat’s growls grow wilder, and Dirk takes instant advantage of the troll’s loss of temper, disarming him with a single strike. Dave is certain Dirk could have ended it sooner, but the knowledge that Dirk was just leading Karkat on, tiring him out while waiting for the perfect moment, makes admiration well up inside Dave’s body. They shake hands, and when Karkat walks back to where the others are sitting, he is welcomed with compliments on his performance that make him huff in feigned anger.

Dave gives Karkat a thumbs up, but then he notices that Dirk hasn’t moved.

“Who’s next?” Jade asks, tucking another stray hair behind her ear. John looks at Karkat, who answers John’s silent question with a scowl.

“Dave,” Dirk speaks up, and everyone looks at him. He is jumping lightly from one feet to the other to keep his body warm, and his eyes are on Dave. Dave swallows; he feels his palms turn sweaty. “You and me bro, come on.”

Dave is struck by sudden anxiety, there is panic behind his shades. Jade claps her hands together in excitement; this will be the first time for the Striders to raise blades against each other. John tells Dave to go kick Dirk’s ass, and Dave fakes a smile, realizing he’s got no escape. He looks back to Dirk, who motions for Dave to come over with a nod of his head.

Dave’s legs feel like lead as he forces them forward, and he is clutching his sword so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He can’t put his finger on it, but something feels _wrong_ about fighting Dirk.

Dirk waits patiently while Dave strides towards him, and it makes Dave nervous. What if he can’t hold up against Dirk? Will he be disappointed? Memories of strifes with Bro flash before Dave’s eyes, and he weakly touches Dirk’s extended fist with his own before they both take their place opposite of one another.

Dave looks at Dirk’s face while John counts down, hoping to find some form of reassurance, but Dirk’s expression is blank as ever, eyes calm behind his pointed shades. Dave grips the handle of his sword even harder, and unlocks his knees.

The countdown reaches zero, but both Striders stay still for just a second longer. Dave prepares to dodge, but Dirk doesn’t move. He just stands there, eyeing him down, and the pressure is what makes Dave lunge towards him. Dirk sidesteps, Dave spots a smile on his lips, and their strife begins.

It’s a quiet battle. Dirk doesn’t even breathe through his mouth, and Dave feels so intimidated that he messes up his footwork. He gives Dirk at least three openings during the first few minutes, and the growing embarrassment only makes it harder for him to keep his focus.

Dirk dodges yet another strike, and before Dave can center himself Dirk is behind him, an arm locked firmly around Dave’s throat. Dave closes his eyes and waits for the blow, but it doesn’t come.

“Stop holding back.” Dirk’s voice is dizzying; he doesn’t even sound slightly out of breath. “This is a strife, not a slow dance.”

Dave falls for the taunt- he bashes his skull against Dirk’s nose, and manages to jump away from his hold. When he turns and drops back into his stance, he sees Dirk wipe the blood from his face with the back of his hand. Dave is scared, but then Dirk smiles, and he looks _proud_ , and a fire lights up inside.

Their blades meet as equals, but Dave still feels far behind. Dirk seems to predict every move he makes, as if Dave’s techniques are a choreography Dirk has memorized. Dave barely keeps up, and fails to dodge a flourish. Dirk’s katana slices through Dave’s shirt and skin, drawing a shallow cut across his chest. Dave hisses, but Dirk’s disapproving gaze hurts more than a wound ever could.

It doesn’t take long after that. Dave almost gets a hit in himself, the tip of his blade scratching Dirk’s shoulder. The strike leaves Dave too close to Dirk, and he feels his legs being swept from under him. The next thing Dave registers is the warm ground beneath his back, and the cool metal of Dirk’s katana resting on the hollow of his throat.

Dave’s hand loosens around his sword. “I yield.” His voice is all but a whisper, but Dirk seems to accept Dave’s surrender. He draws back his blade and offers his hand instead. Dave hesitates for a second, but Dirk smiles again, dried blood on his lips, and Dave smiles back before he lets Dirk pull him back up.

The two of them walk back to the others, casually dusting off their clothes and readjusting their shades. Jade showers both of them with compliments, while John and Karkat take their place to strife next. Dirk sits back with a satisfied sigh, and takes a long swig from Dave’s apple juice. Dave sits down next to him, and accepts the bottle without a sound when Dirk holds it up to him.

“Why don’t you start them off.” Dirk says, nodding at John and Karkat. Dave looks up from inspecting the cut on his rib cage, that had only just begun to sting as the adrenaline died down.

Dave wipes his bloody fingers on his torn shirt, and counts down.


	7. 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He longs for Dirk’s praise, his arms around his waist, for the uncomfortable foundation of Dirk’s so-called bed."

**14.**

Dave has restless nights. He dreams of Bro and him, watching shitty cartoons together on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Bro wraps an arm around Dave, but when Dave looks up, it’s Dirk’s face he sees behind those pointed shades. Dave’s heart stops, and Dirk leans in-

Dave wakes up confused, ashamed, and undeniably aroused. His dream repeats itself, endless variations of the same, and a part of him wishes for the nightmares to return.

Dave hasn’t been to Dirk’s workshop for four days, 10 hours and 3 minutes.

He is in his room, hands hovering above the keyboard of his computer, palms sweaty with hesitation. His mind races to find an excuse that would justify speaking to Dirk, but Dirk’s status is set to busy and whatever it is that occupies him, Dave knows he can’t compete.

Dave thinks of dozens of reasons why Dirk hasn’t spoken to him. He travels through his memories of the past few days, looking for things he might have done wrong. He replays their conversations in the back of his head, he scrolls through archived pesterlogs. Dave is terrified to a point of nausea, yet he can’t find it within himself to approach Dirk without being called for first.

-

Dave stands in front of the closed door to Dirk’s workshop, a single fist raised and ready to knock. It’s the middle of the night, an hour late enough to qualify as early. Dave hears the flicking of switches, the whirring of an engine, and when Dave closes his eyes, he’s almost certain he can hear Dirk breathing. He lowers his fist.

Dave stays right there, and just listens for a while. He longs for Dirk’s praise, his arms around his waist, for the uncomfortable foundation of Dirk’s so-called bed. When Dave suddenly hears more movement from within the room, he panics, and absconds.

-

Dirk emerges from his workshop the next morning; Dave sits back in his chair, and turns the volume of his music down when he hears him talk to Jade in the hallway.

“You sure are dedicated!” Jade says.  
“I just lost track of time,” Dirk replies, and Dave relishes in the sound of his voice. “Can’t put a project down till it’s done, y’know?”

Jade chuckles while Dave puzzles the pieces of Dirk’s absence together. Then Dirk speaks up again.

“Have you seen Dave?”

Dave stops breathing.

“I think he’s in his room.” Jade answers.

It’s not until a few seconds later, when he hears a soft knock on his door, that Dave breathes again. Dirk lets himself in without waiting for a reply. There are streaks of tar on his cheekbones, staining the bandage on the bridge of his broken nose (their strife last week had resulted in a minor fracture; Dave never wanted to fight Dirk again).

“Hey.” Dirk says, and only now Dave realizes how tired he sounds.  
“Sup bro.” Dave replies, as if he hasn’t spent the last five days in agony.  
“Think you can help me test some equipment I threw together?”

Dave has already gotten up from his chair. His heartbeat slams inside his chest as if it’s trying to escape.

“Yeah.” Dave answers. He hopes it will take all day.  
“Cool.” Dirk rests his fingertips on the small of Dave’s back as they walk to the workshop, and Dave feels like he’s flying instead.

**15.**

“It’d probably be a really bad idea to take these apart, wouldn’t it.”

Dave doesn’t have to say a word to answer Dirk’s question. He just makes eye contact for a second, and that’s enough. Dirk is on the floor, studying one of Dave’s turntables as if he’s trying to crack some sort of code. Dave watches, leaning against Dirk’s desk, his hands in his pockets. The way Dirk’s fingers glide over the smooth disc makes Dave shiver.

Dave hadn’t hesitated a second when Dirk asked him to see his turntables. He just turned his wrists and called them from his sylladex; they danced under his fingertips as if they were an extension of his hands. When Dave set them down before Dirk, the gears stopped spinning, and his most powerful possession had been reduced to an incomplete mixing station.

The turntables are unresponsive to Dirk’s hands. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but for some reason Dave has trouble believing there is something Dirk _can’t_ do. Dave feels the near-magnetic pull of the vinyl, and digs his hands a bit deeper into his pockets.

Dirk sighs, and Dave watches Dirk’s mouth as if he can see the air flowing past his lips. Dirk sets the disc down with a gentleness that makes Dave’s heart swell, and shakes his head.

“Guess that’s a dead end.” Dirk says, resignation in his voice.  
“I’m sorry.” Dave doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, but he feels like he should. Dirk shrugs, and nods at the turntables. Dave takes the hint, and quietly stores them back in his sylladex. For a moment there is silence in the workshop.

“What were you trying to do?” Dave asks carefully, unsure if it is any of his business (regardless of his turntables being involved). Dirk gets up from the floor and sits down at his desk; Dave quickly steps aside a little to give him more space.

“Figuring out time travel.” Dirk answers, as if it’s comparable to learning origami on a rainy day. His hands move fast as he types, and Dave wonders what he’s writing.  
“Oh.” Dave replies.

Even as a Time player who has reached the top of the echeladder, Dave is no closer to knowing how time travel works than Dirk is. He knows how his turntables work, what way to spin and where to scratch, but he doesn’t know _why_ it works. Time flows through him alongside his blood, but he’s never stopped to wonder what lies behind the power that’s all but become his second nature. Dave knows the outcome, but not the formula. He has an endless supply of words, but no answers.

He is a God incapable of guidance.

Dirk stops typing. “What’s it like?”  
The question catches Dave off guard. “Time travel?”  
Dirk simply nods.

“It’s like juggling explosive-”  
“I know it’s dangerous,” Dirk interrupts. “but what does it _feel_ like.”  
Dave represses the first answer that comes to mind. _Lonely_. Instead, he shrugs. “I never stopped to think about it. Time doesn’t wait for anyone, cape or not.”

Dirk seems surprised for a moment, and resumes typing. Dave feels like slapping himself in the face for being such a disappointment. He tries to change the subject. “Why’d you want to do it anyway?”

It takes a long time before Dirk answers, and his fingers still once more. “There’s someone I’d like to meet.” Dirk says, and he looks at Dave from the corner of his eye. Dave reflexively reaches to push his shades further up his nose, but they aren’t there (he can’t even remember the last time he wore them inside this room). Dirk eyes Dave down as if he’s waiting for him to ask the obvious follow-up question.

Dave thinks he already knows who Dirk wants to meet though, and it makes his insides twist painfully.

“I’m sorry.” Dave says again. He feels like screaming in frustration because apologies won’t help, nothing he does ever _helps_. 

“Was he like me? Your Bro, I mean.” Dirk asks, his expression unreadable.  
Dave stutters. “Well, yes, sort of, I guess? He wore a hat.”  
“That’s not really what I’m getting at.” Dirk replies, and Dave feels like he’s being choked by Dirk’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to say.

Dave has never felt so inadequate before. Here he stands, a Strider, a knight, a _God_ , yet he is not the ancestor Dirk admired. In a way, even the Dave who _was_ Dirk’s ancestor has failed, because Dirk refers to him as ‘ancestor’ instead of ‘bro’. Dave hasn’t been able to give Dirk the Bro that Dirk had given him. Even in another universe, Dave ends up falling short. He wishes Dirk would stop looking at him.

Dirk doesn't avert his gaze, but gets up from his chair, and pulls Dave into his arms. Dirk holds him close, locks his chin over Dave’s shoulder. Dave trembles as he slowly reaches around to hug him back. Neither of them say a word. Dave listens to the sound of Dirk’s heartbeat, and wonders if he has his eyes closed; if Dirk’s pretending to hold someone else. Dave wonders if he’s pretending, himself.


	8. 8.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s his cool, collected stance alone that makes Dave want to scratch at the ground until he’s created a hole big enough to hide in."

**16.**

EB: hey, dave!  
EB: have you been in your room all day?  
EB: you missed me totally owning jade in our sparring match!  
EB: i was pretty awesome, if i may say so myself.  
EB: you should’ve seen it.  
EB: dave?  
EB: daaaaaaaave.

Dave stares at the chat window as notifications of new messages keep popping up. He feels a touch of guilt at ignoring John, but he doesn’t want to explain why he wasn’t at their sparring practice. Later tonight, or tomorrow even, he’ll tell John that he fell asleep or something.

EB: dirk was there again too.  
EB: rose went up against him, can you believe it?  
EB: it looked like a close fight too!  
EB: guess who won.  
EB: bluh, i’m just talking to myself here.

Another window pops up, and Dave clicks it to find purple prose.

TT: I cannot say I blame you for wanting to avoid a match against Dirk.  
TT: That was the reason for your absence today, wasn’t it?

When Dave doesn’t respond, another message pops up.

TT: Dave, I know you’re there.

Dave blinks at the screen, sighs in surrender, and types.

TG: dont tell john  
TT: Your secrets are safe with me, Dave.  
TT: All of them.  
TG: yeah ok wow thats not creepy at all  
TG: so how did it go  
TT: I find Dirk to be a very apt opponent, especially considering how he has not yet ascended to god tier.  
TG: he kicked your ass didnt he

Rose’s reply takes a while, and Dave can’t help but smile.

TT: He ended up taking the match, yes.  
TT: It looks like Dirk is planning to make a regular appearance during our future sparring sessions.  
TG: interesting  
TT: Very. Will this compromise your attendance?  
TG: look i wasnt avoiding him ok  
TG: i just didnt feel like breaking any noses today  
TT: I see.  
TT: Well, in that case I look forward to your next performance.  
TG: yeah you do that  
TG: im going to continue pretending im asleep now  
TT: Yes, you do that.

Dave closes the window, and takes a deep breath. He leans back in his chair.

Dave isn’t scared. There’s just something about fighting Dirk that makes him feel uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s not supposed to, as if the thought alone clashes with every fiber in his body, but he can’t explain where it comes from.

Regardless of his reasons, Dave is still behind a training session, and there aren’t times to slack off. He waits until he’s sure the others are sleeping, and then sneaks his way up the stairs, out to the meteor’s surface. Sighing a breath of relief when he finds no one else there, Dave takes a fighting stance, and begins his practice.

Dave has been striking at the air for a good twenty minutes, when he notices a presence from the corner of his eye. Dave freezes, and looks to the lab to find Dirk, casually leaning against the door. He has his arms crossed, and Dave immediately tries to see if he’s got his katana with him- it doesn’t look like he does. Dirk eyes him up calmly from behind his pointed shades. When Dave doesn’t move, Dirk nods at him.

“Don’t let me keep you.” Dirk says, and Dave swallows. He gives a tiny nod back, and tears his eyes away from Dirk to resume his practice. 

Dave feels like he’s wielding a sword made of styrofoam instead of metal. Every swing takes at least twice the effort, the surface of the blade fighting against the dry air, instead of cutting through it. Dirk’s gaze on him weighs heavy, pressuring, and Dave’s heartbeat speeds up in fear of messing up while he’s being watched.

Dirk doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. It’s his cool, collected stance alone that makes Dave want to scratch at the ground until he’s created a hole big enough to hide in.

Dave’s palms are sweaty as he grips the handle of his blade, his shoulders are way too tense. He keeps overextending his slashes, only barely manages to hold his balance; his footwork is sloppy and slow. It’s frustrating, embarrassing, and Dave quietly cusses at himself for looking like an idiot in front of Dirk. He wants to scream, fling his sword off the goddamn meteor and follow it into the void.

Then, something in Dave’s peripheral vision moves, and he glances over to see Dirk turn around, and leave. There’s no word of goodbye, no wave of his hand, no nod of his head. Dirk just leaves, and leaves Dave listening for the faint sound of Dirk’s footsteps down the stairs.

For a moment, everything around Dave collapses. The tip of his blade scratches the ground as he lowers his arms, and lets them go lax by his sides. He feels dizzy, drained. He struggles to keep standing.

A million thoughts attack him at once. Dave thinks about Bro, about his paling skin, his drying blood. About the way his gloved fist would connect with Dave’s, about the cocky grin permanently glued to his lips. Dave wants to be strong enough to never need sacrifice again. To protect, instead of being protected, but like this, the only way for him to protect someone is to stay as far away from them as possible. Dave thinks about Dirk, about his slender, scratched-up hands, about the contagious calm of his voice, about the soothing warmth of his presence. Dave doesn’t blame Dirk for leaving. He wouldn’t want to watch himself, either.

An overwhelming sadness claws at Dave from inside his chest, and he deals with it the only way he knows how: he squeezes his eyes shut, and waits for it to pass. It drags away like retreating waves, and Dave raises his sword again, intending to slash any residue out into the sky.

“Heads up.”

A carton of apple juice is closing in on Dave’s face fast, and he barely manages to catch it before it hits him. His eyes follow the direction of the throw to find Dirk, stepping back out of the lab, moving to sit down. Dave stares, and Dirk motions for him to come over.

“Time for a break man, come on.”

Dave’s step stutters briefly, but then he walks up to Dirk, and sits down next to him. They lean back against the building, Dirk’s legs stretched out in front of him, Dave’s knees pulled up to his chest.

“I didn’t bring that for you to stare at it, you know.” Dirk says, a smile in his voice. Dave startles and looks up from the carton of apple juice, then nods, and begins to fumble with the straw.

Dave is so nervous that he drinks too fast, causing a fit of violent hacks and coughs as he tries not to choke on his favorite beverage. Dirk watches with a bit of amusement, and gently slaps Dave’s upper back a couple of times. Dave gasps for air as he comes to, and coughs a few more times while reaching under his shades to rub his watery eyes.

“Dude, you ok?” Dirk asks with a grin.  
“Peachy.” Dave croaks out.

Dirk leaves his hand on Dave’s back for just a second longer before retreating, and Dave’s cheeks are tinted pink with embarrassment as he (slowly) continues drinking.

“I strifed Rose today.” Dirk comments, and Dave looks at him as if he’s telling him something new. Dirk pulls up one of his sleeves and shows Dave four stitches, holding together a nasty-looking cut near his elbow. This time, Dave’s surprise is genuine.

“Damn.”  
“I got careless.” Dirk shrugs, and he lets his sleeve slide down again.  
“But they said you won.”  
“Who said I won? Weren’t you asleep all afternoon?” Dirk asks with a quirked eyebrow, and Dave’s blush grows deeper at giving himself away. He sighs in defeat, and Dirk smiles.

“Yeah, I won. Got a few hits in myself, too, but those just healed right up. Gotta say I’m looking forward to that instant recovery thing you gods have going on. Shit doesn’t even scar.”

“Yeah divinity doesn’t just come with a set of permanently clean pajamas, though really what more could you want.” Dave jokes.  
“I can hardly wait.” Dirk adds.  
“So you think you’re gonna get a crown or something?” Dave grins.  
“I damn well better be.” Dirk answers, grinning back.

They share a moment in comfortable silence, looking up at the vast universe surrounding the meteor. Then, Dirk speaks up again.

“Dave, why were you avoiding me?”  
“What?” Dave sounds somewhat startled. Dirk turns to look Dave in the eye, and Dave lowers his head. “I wouldn’t really call it avoiding.” He mutters.  
“Is this still about last time?” Dirk asks. “I don’t break, you know.”  
“Your nose did.” Dave jokes, but his smile fades when Dirk frowns at him. “Look can we just drop this.”  
“No, we can’t.” Dirk counters. “I enjoyed that strife, and if I did anything to make you want to avoid a rematch, I want to know what it was.”

“You didn’t, I don’t-”  
“ _Dave_.” Dirk’s voice sounds deep, and strong, and it makes Dave want to hide his face. When Dave averts his eyes, Dirk turns towards him more, and leans in. Dave’s heart skips a beat. “Dave, look at me.”

Dave slowly turns his gaze back up. Dirk is close; Dave can see his sunset eyes through two sets of shades.

“Do you want me to back off?” Dirk asks softly. Dave swallows, and shakes his head. He feels his pulse in his ears. Dirk brings a hand up to Dave’s face, and traces Dave’s cheekbone with his thumb. His touch feels cool against Dave’s flustered skin.

“Close your eyes.” Dirk says, and Dave blinks once before allowing his eyelids to fall shut. He feels Dirk’s hand slide down his face, until his fingers are resting under his chin. Dirk gently tips Dave’s head up a little, his other hand comes up to cup the side of Dave’s face. Dave can feel Dirk’s breath on his lips, and his stomach flips with butterflies.

When Dave feels Dirk’s lips brush against his own, he forgets how to breathe. Dirk presses a chaste kiss to his lips, tender to a point of careful, as if he worries Dave will shatter in his hands. Dave feels like his chest is going to burst, and before he can wrap his mind around it all, Dirk has pulled back already.

Dave opens his eyes to see Dirk staring at him, and the moment they make eye contact Dirk withdraws, and gets up on his feet. Dave strains his neck to look up at him, dazed.

“See you later bro.”  
Dave can’t get his voice to work, so he nods weakly instead, and he follows Dirk with his eyes as Dirk turns around and enters the lab, leaving the door open behind him. Once he’s out of sight, Dave gasps for air as if he narrowly escaped drowning.

Dave’s head spins, and he reaches to touch his own lips in disbelief. He slumps back into the wall of the building, a sudden exhaustion settling inside his limbs, and he closes his eyes with a deep sigh.

Dave wakes up two hours later to find a pillow tucked under his head, a blanket draped over his body, and Dirk, smiling at him from beside the open door.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Relax.” Dirk says, and his voice seeps into Dave’s blood like an anesthetic.

**17.**

Dirk doesn’t address their lip-lock, and at first Dave is grateful. However, the longer Dirk seems to ignore it, the more Dave’s relief is replaced with a pressing uneasiness. Nothing about Dirk seems to have changed, and in his insecurity, Dave starts craving the confrontation he had been so happy to avoid. When week passes without but a hint of acknowledgement, Dave begins to wonder if Dirk’s kiss was simply a product of his own imagination.

But it _can’t_ be.

He remembers it so clearly, the soft brush of Dirk’s mouth against his own, the way Dirk’s lips pressed into his for the briefest of moments. He’s memorized the touch of Dirk’s fingertips to Dave’s chin, the warmth that radiated from his skin. The feeling is so vivid, so alive in his mind that everything around it appears blurred. It is real. It’s more real than anything else.

Dave spends his days lost in dreams, and lies awake at night. He closes his eyes, replays the kiss over and over, until his body feels hot inside. Sometimes he pretends it lasted longer than it did. Sometimes he pretends he had a chance to kiss back. Sometimes they are not on the meteor’s surface, but on the floor in Dirk’s workshop. On the edge of Dave’s bed.

Dave’s quiet whispers fill his room as he tries to gather courage to bring it up with Dirk himself, but even his inner monologue falls silent at his fear of rejection. The time Dave spends with Dirk feels threatening somehow, as if he’s dancing on a minefield, waiting to misstep; the green sun is nothing compared to the pending explosion Dave feels hanging over his head.

Morning comes, and it’s been eight days since their kiss. Dave slips into a shirt Dirk gave him, and heads to the workshop as if he’s walking to the gallows. The door is open, and a non-existent noose tightens around Dave’s neck when Dirk notices Dave’s presence.

“Hey Dave.”

Dave startles at the sound of his name. His hands shoot up to his shades. Dirk turns away from his computer, and observes him.

“Great timing, I need your help with something. Could you close the door behind you?” He sounds preoccupied, and on the screen behind Dirk, Dave spots green text broken up with a bit of orange.

Dave shuts the door with one hand; the other is already holding his discarded sunglasses. Dirk takes them blindly, and Dave holds still while Dirk types for a few moments longer. Dave notices Dirk’s lips are chapped, and absently bites his own.

Then, Dirk turns around, and Dave nearly startles once more.

“What’s up.” Dirk asks, his studying eyes make Dave feel nervous. “You look tired.”

Dave takes his gaze off Dirk’s lips and waves his hand dismissively.  
“Nah, I’m cool. What did you need me for?”

Dirk doesn’t answer right away; as if he’s waiting for Dave to say more. When it becomes clear that this isn’t going to happen, Dirk breaks the silence himself. He straightens in his chair, reaches for the hem of his shirt, and pulls it off over his head.

Dave’s jaw drops, and his face flushes. His eyes flit over Dirk’s exposed skin in a rushed panic, as Dave is conflicted between not wanting to miss a second of the sight, and not wanting to be caught staring. Dirk rolls his shoulders once, and tosses the shirt aside. Dave tries to focus on the rim of Dirk’s shades, rather than the curve of his collarbones. Dirk motions for Dave to come closer, and Dave walks up until he is standing next to Dirk, who is still seated in his chair.

“Gotta get these out.” Dirk says, and he nods down at his arm, where four stitches strike a dark contrast against Dirk’s skin. There are flecks of purple around the punctures, and a pale shade of pink tints the spots where scar tissue is forming. Dave swallows.

Dirk holds up a small flask of antiseptic, and Dave takes it from him. His hands are already shaking, and Dirk seems to notice, because he smiles, and reaches up to rests a hand on Dave’s shoulder.

“Relax.” Dirk says, and his voice seeps into Dave’s blood like an anesthetic. Dave isn’t sure if Dirk is actually putting any pressure on his shoulder, but gravity intensifies and pulls him down. Dave lets it happen, comforted by Dirk’s touch, and lowers himself to his knees so that he is at eyelevel with Dirk’s lap, and subsequently, the wound.

Dirk points Dave to a beat-up shoebox standing under the desk, and Dave pulls it towards him. Inside is a mess of first-aid materials. Everything looks well-used, and Dave wonders how many times Dirk has had to patch himself up without anyone’s help. Somehow, it makes him feel sad.

“You’ve done this before, right.” Dirk asks, and Dave almost regrets nodding. Maybe if he denies, Dirk will ask someone else- no, Dave doesn’t want that either. Dirk wants him to do this, _trusts_ him to do this. He’ll do it. He has no choice but to do it.

Dave cleans his hands in silence, and Dirk shares the silence as Dave carefully presses a cloth soaked with antiseptic to his stitches. His hands aren’t as shaky as before, but Dave’s brows are furrowed and his eyes burn in concentration.

Dirk doesn’t flinch, but Dave handles him like he’s made of glass regardless. He uses one hand to hold Dirk’s arm still, and the other to dab gently at his skin. When he’s certain that everything’s disinfected properly, he sets the cloth aside, and reaches for the box again.

Tweezers in one hand and a short, sharp knife in the other, Dave takes a deep breath. He tries to focus on the stitches alone, tries to ignore Dirk’s waiting gaze as it rests on him. Ignore the softness of his skin.

Dave carefully lifts the knot of the first stitch, and slides the blade of the knife under it. The thread doesn’t take long to snap. Dave glances up at Dirk, searching for any sign of discomfort, but Dirk keeps his eyes on Dave’s hands. Assuming it’s alright for him to continue, Dave slowly proceeds to pull the thread from Dirk’s skin. There is a bit of resistance- Dirk’s arm tenses up slightly in Dave’s loose hold. Dave grits his teeth and fights the urge to drop everything and apologize; two seconds later, the first stitch is gone. It’s not until Dave exhales, that he realizes he’s been holding his breath.

Dave blinks, and stares at the reddened skin that held the suture, as if he’s expecting to see blood. When nothing happens, he draws in another deep breath. He’s doing alright. He’s doing alright. He’s terrified.

Then, Dirk’s fingers thread through his hair. Dave doesn’t want to meet his eyes.

“You’re fine, Dave. Keep going.”

Dave manages a weak hum and a nod in reply. He strengthens his grip on the tweezers, and lifts the knot of the second stich. When it breaks, Dave moves on to extract the thread right away. He intends to pull it out faster this time, to prevent stretching out any pain, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Dirk doesn’t tense up this time, and Dave nearly shivers in relief.

The third stitch seems lopsided somehow, and Dave takes extra care to make sure he doesn’t pull at it in the wrong direction. When he first tugs at the suture, it doesn’t seem to move at all, and Dirk hisses- Dave startles and leans away from Dirk as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Sorry.” He mutters, and his eyes sting and _oh god_ he hurt Dirk this wasn’t really happening.

“Just take it out with one pull.” Dirk instructs calmly, and Dave gives a quick nod. He has to rest his wrist on Dirk’s arm to stop his hand from shaking, and he clenches his jaw when he tears the thread from Dirk’s skin. It slides out flawlessly, and Dave thinks he hears Dirk praise him, but all he can hear is the sound of his pulse in his ears.

Dave is extra cautious as he takes out the final stitch, but the adrenaline causes him to drop the tweezers twice. Dirk doesn’t comment on it, he just watches, and though he’s not sure why, Dave wishes Dirk would have scolded him instead. Once the stitch is out, Dave mechanically prepares a clean cloth and disinfects Dirk’s skin again. He barely blinks, right up until he’s secured a bandage around Dirk’s arm.

Then, it’s over, and Dave slumps down as if he’s been released from the weight of the world. He feels exhausted, but Dirk was alright, everything was alright, and Dave’s body buzzes with sheer joy at knowing that he hasn’t let Dirk down. He leans forward a bit, and gently rests is forehead against Dirk’s leg. Dirk’s hand finds its way back to Dave’s head, and Dave closes his eyes when Dirk begins to gently stroke his hair.

“Thanks Dave.” Dirk says, and Dave tries to burn the sound of his voice into his memory. Then, Dirk’s fingers stop moving, and Dave looks up to see why. His breath catches when he finds himself looking straight into Dirk’s un-shaded eyes. Dirk smiles.

“There’s one more thing I’d like you to do.” He says, and Dave’s heartbeat picks up again.  
“What.” Dave answers, so quietly he can barely hear himself.

“Kiss me.”

For a moment, the world stops spinning. Dave’s heart overflows, floods, and the current lifts him up, makes him float. Dave lets it guide him; he straightens towards Dirk, weight resting on his knees, and Dirk leans down to meet him halfway.

When Dirk stops his advance breaths away from Dave’s lips, Dave sways forward and closes the gap. They collide softly, sweetly, Dave’s hands on Dirk’s leg, Dirk’s hands in Dave’s hair. Behind Dave’s closed eyelids, all colors blend into the brightest white he’s ever seen. Shivers spark down his spine, and gather, tighten, into a heat Dave’s not sure he can bear.

Then, it’s over. Dirk stares into Dave’s eyes as if he’s looking for something, and the only thing Dave is capable of thinking is _Dirk_. He sucks in shallow breaths through slightly parted lips, his fingers gripping at the fabric of Dirk’s jeans to keep himself upright. Dirk takes no action to pull Dave up to his feet, or to get down to the floor himself. Instead, he brushes the back of his hand down against Dave’s cheek, and drops his voice to a whisper.

“Again.”


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The outlines of Dirk’s body are solid and sharp, defining a silhouette that seems familiar somehow. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [♫](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6KUk8yONB8)

**18.**

It’s dark in Dave’s dreams. The outlines of Dirk’s body are solid and sharp, defining a silhouette that seems familiar somehow. He comes closer, and his hands are the ones that carried him to bed. His voice is the one that raised him, his smile is the one he lived to earn. His body is the one he saw bleeding, dead before his eyes; but now it is alive, and warm against his own. In his arms Dave feels at home.

Dave clutches his discarded shades, and looks through the open door to Dirk’s workshop. He finds Dirk at his computer, his shoulders unnaturally straight, a large pair of headphones covering his ears. Dave clears his throat before he speaks up.

“Bro.”

Dave hardly ever uses Dirk’s name anymore. It feels strange, distant. Dirk never corrects him, and Dave wonders if being called Bro comforts Dirk as much as it comforts him to say it. Dirk looks up from his work.

“Yeah?”

Dave drops his gaze to the floor, shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Dirk rolls his chair back from his desk, and waits. It takes Dave a few more moments to gather his words.

“Do you have time?” The question itself is vague, but its meaning is clear to both of them. Dave stares at Dirk’s lips as they curl up into a slight smile. He slides his headphones off, and nods.

“Yeah.”

Dave’s steps are silent as he approaches. Dirk takes his shades, and steadily guides Dave down into his lap. His hands settle on the small of Dave’s back, and Dave gravitates towards him as if drawn by a vortex.

Their lips touch, softness slipping into urgency, urgency overflowing into need. Dave traces, admires Dirk’s cheekbones with his fingertips, as if they’d shatter beneath his touch. He relishes in the flow of Dirk’s soft exhales mingling with his own, in the faint scent of petrichor lingering on his skin.

Dave lets his hands slide down Dirk’s chest, careful, gentle in admiration. Dirk’s mouth grows more demanding against his own, a warm, pleasant pressure rising, tightening in Dave’s body as their kisses deepen. Then, Dirk parts from him- his light whisper almost eluded Dave completely with his heartbeat ringing in his ears.

“Hold on.”

Dave holds on. Arms laced around Dirk’s neck, Dave clings as Dirk lifts him up. There’s not a single stutter in Dirk’s movements; Dave soon feels the thin mattress against his back, and the metal springs of the bed creak as he is lowered onto it.

Dirk reaches to remove his frames, and Dave holds his breath. When Dirk looks down into his eyes, Dave feels smaller than he’s ever felt before. Dave nearly sobs when their lips meet again. Dirk’s tongue stills the sounds coming from the back of his throat. Dave shivers underneath Dirk’s searching hands.

Dave doesn’t know how much time passed when Dirk pulls away, but it feels like shards of seconds, and it takes shards of seconds for his skin to feel untouched. Dave isn’t sure why he feels tears sting in the corners of his eyes, but he blinks until it goes away. Dirk sits by his side, and puts his shades back on.

“What’s wrong.” Dave’s voice cracks with fear.  
“Door’s open.” Dirk answers, but when he gets up from the bed, he moves towards his desk instead of moving to close the door. Dave sits up, suddenly feeling uncomfortably out of place. He finds his own sunglasses, and leaves the workshop without a word.

Dave thinks about him. He thinks about how he makes him feel. He thinks of the emptiness he’s left with when they’re not together. He thinks of the flutters in his stomach when he thinks about his smile, the heat in his groin when he thinks about his lips. Dave thinks about the times he pretended that his hands weren’t his own. Dave thinks about love- then quickly tries to forget.

Later that night, though the hour was much closer to morning, Dave texts Dirk with shaky fingers.

TG: hey bro you there  
TT: Yeah.  
TT: What is it?  
TG: cant sleep  
TT: Nightmares again?  
TG: no not really  
TT: Then what?  
TG: im feeling things  
TG: gross persistent things  
TT: Oh.  
TT: Would it help for you to sleep here?  
TG: if youll let me  
TG: yeah  
TT: Door’s open.

It’s different this time. Dave knows it’s different. He heads for Dirk’s workshop with a heavy feeling in his heart, but his body feels light, set aflame. Dave enters the workshop soundlessly, and closes the door behind him.

It’s dark in Dirk’s room. The outlines of Dirk’s body are solid and sharp, defining a silhouette that seems familiar somehow. He comes closer, and his hands are the ones that carry him to bed.

**-fin**


End file.
